


The Tale of the Foxtail

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-10
Updated: 2008-11-10
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: There once was a foxfur wrap...





	The Tale of the Foxtail

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

It had been a long, hard, rough day in Auror training, and Harry was beat as he let himself into the cosy cottage he shared with Neville, his partner of three years. He could have skipped it entirely, gone directly into the Auror Corps with Minister Shacklebolt’s blessing; but Harry had, for one of the few times in his life, decided to do the responsible thing, finish his schooling and go through training like everyone else. He regretted that decision sometimes, especially on days like today when every muscle ached and the memories of Ernie Macmillan tossing him about like a ragdoll fresh in his mind.

“Nev? I’m home,” he called out, trudging wearily toward the kitchen. The light was on, which meant Neville was home. Sometimes he wasn’t; his duties while apprenticing under Professor Sprout often had him working late as well.

“In here!” Neville’s voice called from their bedroom. “There’re makings for sandwiches on the kitchen table if you’re hungry. I just got home myself.”

Harry entered the kitchen, discovering a plate of various meats and cheeses and another holding lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and pickles on top of the table, along with an already-sliced loaf of bread and a selection of condiments. Grabbing a butterbeer from the icebox, he popped the cork and began fixing a roast beef and cheddar sandwich.

“Rough day?” Neville asked from behind, arms sliding around Harry’s waist, head resting between his shoulders. “No, don’t answer that, I can already tell it was. Your shoulders are in knots. Want to tell me about it?”

Harry shook his head, leaning back into the embrace. “Nah, just one of those days where nothing goes as it should. Cast all the wrong hexes, used all the wrong movements, made all the wrong interpretations and drew all the wrong conclusions. You know, the kind of day that makes you wish you’d never left the bed.”

“I’ve had a few of those myself,” Neville said with a sympathetic chuckle. Kissing the side of Harry’s neck, he added, “Go ahead and finish your sandwich, and afterward I’ll try to make things better.”

“Oooh, things are looking up already.” Harry looked over his shoulder to Neville, mustering a smile.

Grabbing a butterbeer of his own, Neville smiled and said, “I thought you’d say that,” before leaving Harry to his meal.

Harry devoured the sandwich quickly, hearing a note in Neville’s voice that let him know his evening would be much improved from the day’s disasters. The sound of the shower hastened the sandwich eating even further.

Putting everything away and wiping down the table, Harry went into the bedroom, a slow smile spreading across his face upon finding Neville stretched out on their bed, still naked, damp, and flushed pink from the shower, his fingers stroking the fox fur he’d inherited from Gran. Eyes moving from the fur to meet Harry’s, Neville gave him a shy, almost embarrassed smile. “I can’t help it,” he said. “It’s so soft.”

“It is,” Harry agreed, stepping further into the room, shedding clothes along the way until he was as starkers as Neville. Climbing onto the bed, he lay down beside him, taking the fur from Neville so he could run his fingers through it himself. “You know, I’ll bet this fur’s been to a lot of places and witnessed a lot of things when it was out and about your Gran’s shoulders. I wonder what kind of tales it could tell us if it could speak.”

“Or if it was alive. It’s fur, Harry.” Neville looked up at him, and Harry sighed. He loved Neville with all his heart, but being raised by his grandmother had driven any sense of whimsy from him.

“Pretend it could.” Rolling onto his side, Harry brushed the tail along Neville’s cheek. “Pretend it could tell all sorts of tales, and then consider this one.”

Slowly, carefully, Harry began brushing a wandering, meandering path across Neville’s body with the foxtail. He traced his shoulders and along the ridge of his collarbones, tickled the hollow of his throat, brushed it down both arms to tease at the sensitive skin above the elbow joints. He flicked it down Neville’s belly to just above the nest of pubic hair before sweeping the fur back upward, tickling at his ribcage, brushing the white tip over the tender crease concealing his armpit.

“I’ll bet it’s never done this before now,” Harry said, circling Neville’s nipples with the tail, brushing over the increasingly sensitised flesh to whisk the fur over and around the small pillow of Neville’s potbelly, brushing it ever further down along his treasure trail and toward his growing erection. “Do you think the fox would be shocked?”

“P-probably,” Neville stuttered, eyes drifting closed. “Harry, please!”

Smiling, Harry stroked the foxtail along the soft skin of Neville’s inner thighs, listening as Neville’s breaths became pants and took on a note of impatience, almost desperation, hips shifting, seeking out the fur in Harry’s hands, obviously wanting it against hot velvet flesh, wanting to feel it against his cock. The muscles beneath Neville’s skin twitched and jumped with each careful brush of the fur touching him.

“It’d be quite a tale, I think,” Harry said, setting the fur aside, taking Neville into his mouth.

Neville surged upward, a keening wail erupting from his throat as Harry engulfed him, hands gripping his hips, holding him in place as he licked and sucked at the hard, throbbing length, loosening his throat and swallowing him down to the base. He felt Neville’s fingers wind through his hair, heard the breath sawing in and out of his throat while Harry bobbed his head up and down, tongue fluting along the underside vein before swirling over the head, teasing the slit and tasting salty precome. His fingers cupped the heavy weight of Neville’s sac for a moment, fondling it gently before letting go. One hand fumbled for the fox fur, pulling it toward him so he could stroke it gently across the thin, fragile skin of his scrotum, humming in pleasure as Neville writhed beneath him.

It didn’t take long for him to come at all, heels digging into the bed as he spilled into the searing heat of Harry’s mouth, gasping, nearly sobbing his name, hands tightening almost painfully in his hair. Harry swallowed each spurt, licking him clean as he softened before letting Neville’s cock slide free past his lips, licking at the residue there.

Kissing his way up Neville’s body, he captured his lips in a long, lush kiss, then tickled at Neville’s navel with the foxtail until he giggled and tried to roll away. “It’d be quite a story, you have to admit,” he said, chasing him and pinning him to the mattress, the tail whisking a path down his spine.

“Quite a story,” Neville finally agreed breathlessly, “but not exactly one for the grandkids, yeah? What about further adventures?”

“Working on that now,” Harry replied, and began doing just that.

* * *


End file.
